


Streets of New York

by idra



Series: Renegades, Rebels, and Rogues [2]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Recovery, mentions of original characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 03:09:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10710924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idra/pseuds/idra
Summary: Roger and Tommy try to make life in New York work for them.





	Streets of New York

**Author's Note:**

> Regardless of the fact that this was written in 2006, if you come across any grammatical/typing/ridiculous errors in this story, please give me a heads up. I tried to tag the stuff I know could be triggery, but I miss that stuff, 'cause I never used to tag at all. and also, it takes a lot to trigger me, so I'm never sure what could be a trigger.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> And if you want to just skip straight to reading the rest of the series they are all on [my lj comm RR&R](http://rrandr.livejournal.com) which was for all my rr&r fics.

Roger clung to Tommy's hand as they stepped off the boat. "Tommy, this will be home, yes?" he murmured softly in German. 

Tommy hefted their bag over his shoulder and sighed. "For now. Roger, you must speak English as much as possible. I do not know how people will react to hearing an unknown language." 

Roger nodded as he looked around at the large crowd in front of them. He followed Tommy through the lines of people, holding out the papers Tommy had stolen to gain them entry to this new and exciting place when Tommy told him to. After a few questions, he and Tommy stepped out onto the streets of New York.

"Where will we stay?" Roger asked in German, already forgetting Tommy's admonition to speak English. 

Tommy let out another sigh, tired from the month long journey from the shores of England. He'd begun to think that all the tales of the New World were a myth until earlier that morning when the sun rose behind them, showcasing New York at its best. "I don't know. We'll find some place." He wrapped his arm around Roger's shoulder and started to walk towards the city in front of them. "I'll keep you safe and protect you, Roger, I promise you that." 

Roger smiled shyly up at him. "I know you will. You're my protector." 

Tommy smiled back. He didn't want to scare Roger but he knew it wouldn't be as easy as he'd originally been led to believe. Hopefully, they could make things work. 

 

Tommy dropped to their shared mattress, still dripping from his bath. "'M so tired," he mumbled, rolling to his side and curling up. 

Tentatively, Roger held out a cup. "Tommy, it's time for you to go to school. I made you some coffee." 

Tommy whimpered as he levied himself off the mattress and grabbed his long johns. He'd known it would be hard, but he'd never imagined he'd have to turn to whoring himself out in order for Roger to have a roof over his head. Not to mention trying his damnedest to get his doctor degree before they both rotted in place. He dressed and took the cup from Roger, kissing his cheek lightly. "Stay inside unless you see Mr. Ripley outside. Only then are you allowed out." 

"I know, Tommy." Roger rolled his eyes and grabbed the blankets Tommy had kicked aside, hugging them tight to his chest. "Are we ever going to get a home, Tommy?" 

"I promised you we would, didn't I? And we will, but it'll take time and some money." Tommy sighed at the pout on Roger's face and hugged his friend close. "I promise you, Rogi, we'll have a home and we'll be free." 

Roger nodded and snuggled against him, then pulled back and took the cup from Tommy. "Go before you're late to class." 

Tommy sighed and picked up his school books, running for school. 

Later that day, he stumbled out of an alleyway, scooping his books off the ground and glancing back over his shoulder. How was he to know that one of his professors would turn out to be one of his clients? He knew he couldn't say a word to anyone, because he'd be kicked out of school so fast his head would spin with it. 

He kept glancing behind himself, making sure the professor wasn't following him and ran head long into the blacksmith that lived just down the hall from him and Roger. "Oh, sorry." 

The thick accent sent a shiver down his spine. "It was I who wasn't looking. Are you all right? You looked nervous." 

"A bit, I suppose." Tommy scooted around him and headed down the street, aiming for home. 

"I'll walk with you. I've just finished my day." The taller man -- or boy, as Tommy would swear the man next to him was younger than he was -- moved in step with him. "So, you do the book learning for you and your little brother?" 

"Something like that." Tommy glanced up at the tall man and sighed. "I'm Tommy." 

"Marat." 

Tommy smiled a bit. "Nice to meet you. I'm learning to be a doctor. I've always wanted to help sick people get better." His vision darkened as he remembered the times his mother would come home, drunk and sliced up. She'd never whored herself out, but it didn't change the fact that she slept with anyone and anything who looked twice at her. He'd been the man of the house and responsible for getting her to bed and stitching her wounds. "Anyhow, so that's why Roger stays home. Besides, he's... off." 

"Off? Funny, I thought he was just stupid." 

Tommy bristled and dropped his books, more than ready to defend Roger's honour. "He's not stupid! He just isn't quick." 

Marat raised an eyebrow and scooped up the books holding them out. "I meant no offense. I apologize. It's just... I've seen him with Mr. Ripley, and he looks up at the old man the way the little children do." 

"Maybe he's not the sharpest man in the world, but you'll never find a more sweet or caring person." 

"I believe you." Marat still held the books and glanced behind Tommy. "We're home and your Roger is standing on the steps with Mr. Ripley." 

Tommy snarled and grabbed the books, jogging up the steps and pushing Roger inside after thanking Mr. Ripley for watching out for Roger. "Stubborn, stuck-up bastard!" he growled as he tossed his books onto a chair and began to strip out of his school clothes. 

"What did the blacksmith do? You're very angry," Roger mumbled, hugging his pillow against his chest like a shield. 

"Nothing. He's a stupid, inconsiderate jackass is all." Tommy took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I'm sorry I worried you, Rogi." 

Roger shrugged and looked towards the kitchen. "I made some stew. Mr. Ripley gave me his leftover roast that he said he wouldn't eat." 

Tommy clenched his jaw. He hated the charity, but knew he'd give anything so long as Roger was happy. After all, he'd turned to selling his body to keep Roger happy, so what was taking a hunk of meat from a sweet old man who liked to share fanciful tales of the Wild West with two scared boys? He let out a sharp breath and nodded. "I need to shower, then I'll eat." He glanced at Roger. "Did you eat already?" 

"Nein." Roger smiled. "Was waiting for you. You said we could go to the docks and see the fights." 

Tommy flinched at the eager hope in Roger's voice. "I forgot. Roger, I have to work tonight." He chewed on his lower lip as Roger glared at him. "I didn't make nearly enough last night and... I'm so sorry, Rogi. I'll make it up to you, I promise." 

"You promised me we'd go tonight to the fights!" 

"I know, but I have to work! Otherwise, we won't have a roof over our heads come the end of the week!" 

"We would if you'd quit school and get a normal job!" Roger's voice was petulant and he had a firm pout in place. 

"When I become a doctor, I'll have a normal job and everything will work out just fine." 

"No it won't because you'll never become a doctor! You're too stupid and a liar and I hate you!" Roger cried out as he jumped to his feet and ran the few feet across their apartment to the adjoining bathroom. He slammed the door shut behind him and Tommy could hear him sobbing through the old, cracked door. 

Tommy leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, tears streaming down his face. "Do you think I like it anymore than you do, Roger? I hate not being able to go anywhere or do anything because I'm too tired to move. I can't stand that I keep breaking my promises to you. I hate myself for what I've become!" He buried his face against his knees and sobbed. 

He didn't hear the door open, or Roger creep across the floor to sit next to him. "Shhhh, now. It's alright, darlin'," Roger said stroking his hair. Tommy realized that Roger was using his own words of comfort against him. "We'll make it all right. Nothing can be so wrong as long as we're together and safe." 

Tommy turned, hugging Roger. "I'm sorry I can't take you to the fights." 

"I understand I guess." Roger shrugged, looking very young and sad. "I'm sorry I said you were stupid and that I hated you." 

"Not sorry you called me a liar?" Tommy asked, wiping off his face, then Roger's.

"Nein. You are." Roger pouted. "You promised me two weeks ago that we'd have this night, just the two of us and you'd take me to the fights and we'd eat together and we'd be a real family for a night." 

Tommy nodded, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Ja, I did promise you all that. Only I thought I'd have enough money, but... I had to pay for that broken window, didn't I? Since I'm the one who caused it." 

Roger nodded, frowning. They been trying to play an American game, but Tommy had kicked the ball too high and too hard and had sent it crashing through one of their neighbours windows. 

Tommy smiled. "If I hadn't done that, I wouldn't have to work tonight, because we'd have enough for rent." 

"Fine. But you're still a liar." 

Tommy sighed and pushed up off the floor. "I suppose I am." He headed into the bathroom, showering quickly and changing into the clothes he wore to "work" in. A pair of too tight pants and a tight shirt worked well enough that his "customers" knew right away what sort he was. He ducked into the kitchen, stopping short at the sight of Marat sitting there, scooping up a spoonful of their stew. "Marat? What are you doing here?" 

"I came to return one of your books as we'd left it on the street and I thought you might need it." Marat looked him up and down before turning back to the stew. "This is delicious. And you made it all yourself?" he asked Roger.

Roger beamed with pride as he sat another bowl on the table and gestured for Tommy to sit. "I did. I like to cook. It one of my favouritest things to do." 

Marat smiled up at him and patted the seat next to him. "Sit, Roger. You've served us, now eat your own creation." 

"Why are you here, Marat?" Tommy asked as Roger did as he was bid.

"Well, I happen to have a couple of extra tickets to the fights tonight, and I thought along with delivering your book, I'd offer you the extra tickets in an apology." 

Tommy smiled as Roger's face lit up. "I have to work, but... if you'd be willing to take Roger and keep an eye on him, I'd consider accepting that apology." 

Marat's gaze flicked over his body again and nodded. "Da, I think Roger and I would have a grand time by ourselves." 

"Thank you." Tommy ate his stew quietly and quickly, then stood up and tugged his boots on. "Roger, be on your best behaviour for Marat. And Marat... thank you," he murmured, knowing the blacksmith had to have overheard their earlier argument, but didn't care as long as Roger was happy.

Roger bounced in his seat, eyes wide with excitement. "Yes? I can go?" 

Tommy chuckled and handed Marat the key to their apartment. "I don't know when I'll be back, so if you could lock up when you leave and let Roger in when you return." 

Marat nods and looks down at the key. "Won't you need in?" 

"I'll be back later than you." Tommy could feel his face shutting down until no emotion showed. "Roger, when you get back from the fights, shut the door and lock it. Don't let anyone in except me, ja?" 

"Ja." Roger frowned as Tommy slipped from the apartment. He slumped in his seat and sighed. 

"You do not like him working?" Marat asked, reaching over and touching Roger's hand. 

"He..." Roger shut his mouth quickly. "Do you know what he does?" 

"I'm pretty sure I have an idea. If he had a regular job, he wouldn't wear such... revealing clothing." Marat scowled. "He sells his body, no?" 

Roger nodded slowly. "He says he does to keep a roof over our heads, but... he should just... get a real job." 

"He wants to be a doctor, doesn't he?" 

"Yes." Roger frowned. 

"Then you should support him." Marat stood and set the bowl in the sink. "He does what he does out of his love for you. He wants to be better for you." He turned, raising an eyebrow at Roger. "Do you have a problem with _that_?" 

Roger sniffled and looked down at the table. "I just don't... he comes home and he's so tired and he hurts all over and I can't make him better." 

Marat kneeled next to Roger and placed his hands on Roger's knees. "Just be there for him and help him as much as you can. That will help him be better." He leaned up, kissing Roger's head. "Now tell me about you. You're not... well, are you?" 

Roger shrugged. "Different. Slow. My father said I'm stupid. But Tommy says I'm not stupid, I just... don't... my head doesn't work like other people's." 

"Do you know why?" 

"My father used to hit my mother... and he started to hit me too. He threw me through a wall... but I wasn't... like everyone else before." Roger looked away. "I don't... I don't know what other people know." 

Marat patted Roger's knee. "Well, you know other things. And you read people better than anyone I've ever met. So, go change and we'll go to the fights." 

Roger blinked and looked down at his tattered shirt and worn-through-the-knees slacks. "This isn't good enough? It's all I had clean." 

Marat opened his mouth, then shut it. He sighed, then shrugged. "It will do. But, why don't you wear one of my shirts? It's going to be cold out on the walk over and I don't want you getting sick. Tommy'd probably string me up if you get sick." 

Roger nodded, smiling sweetly. "You're very pretty." 

Marat blushed at the sudden change of topic and shook his head. "Nyet." 

"What does nye-et mean?" Roger sounded out the strange sounding word. 

Marat chuckled. "It means no in my native language." 

"What's that?" Roger asked. 

"Russian. I am Russian. Where are you from?" 

Roger looked pained for a moment, then chewed on his lower lip. "Switzerland. But... Tommy and I were living in London." He smiled slightly. "I liked London. It was pretty. But the people were mean to me. At least here no one pays attention to me." 

Marat smiled realizing how easy it was to get Roger off topic. "Come with me. We'll find you a pair of pants and maybe a shirt to wear -- though my pants may be a bit long on you." 

Roger giggled. "I'm used to clothes that don't fit. Until Tommy took me from my parents, I never had clothes that fit me. Tommy found me some clothes though. He and I wear about the same size... though he's bigger than me..." 

Marat nodded and pulled Roger to his feet. "We can roll the legs up. Maybe. We'll see." 

Roger shut the door behind them and followed Marat down the hall to Marat's apartment. He stepped inside and looked around. "It's the same." 

"All of the apartments in this building are the same." 

"No. Not that. Mr. Ripley's apartment is nice. It feels like home." Roger pouted and sat down on a crate near the door. "This feels... icky." 

Marat hid a smile as he ducked into his bedroom and pulled out a pair of pants that were too short for him and a shirt that was too small. "Here, try these on." 

Roger nodded and stripped out of his clothes, tugging the "new" clothes on. Marat raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected the younger man to be built so well -- not that he was built nearly as well as Tommy, but Roger definitely wasn't as scrawny as Marat had originally thought. Roger turned, trying to button the pants. Scowling, he said, "There aren't enough holes for the buttons!"

Marat bit his lip and tried not to laugh as he knelt in front of the younger man. "Let me." He deftly undid the buttons Roger had managed to get and then redid the pants. "There. All buttoned up." 

Roger grinned down at him. "Thank you. Tommy does my pants sometimes. I can't... I don't..." He sighed.

"It's quite all right." Marat leaned back and nodded. "They fit you. So does the shirt. You can keep them if you want."

Roger shook his head. "Tommy won't let me."

"Why not?"

"Because it's charity. Tommy doesn't like charity."

Marat snorted. "I'd give the clothes away anyhow. They don't fit me. But you can tell him they're a gift. He can't say no to a gift."

Roger nodded. "Thank you." Without warning, he threw his arms around Marat's neck. "I like you."

"Well, I like you too." He patted Roger's back, then disentangled himself from him. "Come on, we're going to be late."

 

Tommy lifted his head at the sound of laughter and winced when his split lip started throbbing. He tried to push himself up off the floor, but his arms wouldn't support his weight. He whimpered and dropped back to the floor outside the apartment. He buried his face in the crook of his elbow as the voices got closer.

He heard Roger's gasp and then felt gentle hands lifting him up. He whimpered, not wanting anyone to touch him. A heavily accented voice said, "Roger, open the door."

"Is he...." Roger asked, his voice catching.

"'m fine, Rogi," Tommy mumbled, burying his face against the man who held him. He knew that more than not wanting to be touched, he didn't want Roger to see what had happened to him. "Just a new client got a little too rough with me."

He felt the chest beneath his cheek rumble, then heard the heavy Russian accent order Roger to go run a hot bath. "Can't afford the water," Tommy groaned as he tried to lift his head.

"Fuck that," the Russian accented voice said. "You need to get clean so I can see how bad your wounds are. Who did this to you?" The man holding him shifted his weight causing Tommy to cry out as work-roughened hands scraped over the raw burn on his hip. "What?" Tommy was set down and rolled to his side. He heard a few foreign words and figured they were curse words. "I'll kill him," the voice growled.

Tommy opened one eye and blinked at the man. "Marat?" 

"Da. Who did this to you?" 

"Don't. He won't... it's done. It's fine. I'll survive." 

"Tommy, who did this to you?" 

"Some guy from... Texas? I think. Patrick... something." 

"How many times has this happened to you?" 

"It's never been this bad before." Tommy sighed and tried to scoot away, but couldn't manage the strength. "Fuck, I have to move. I have class in the morning." 

"You won't go." 

"I have to!" Tommy looked up at the blacksmith, tears in his eyes. "All I've ever wanted to do is be a doctor." 

"Missing one class won't stop that." 

"You don't know my professor. If I miss this class, he'll kick me out." 

"Fine. Then let me help you clean up. We'll stitch your wounds as best as we can, then we'll talk about you going to class in the morning." 

Tommy nodded, flinching away when Marat tried to undress him. "Don't..." 

"Okay, I'm sorry. Should I get Roger to come in and undress you?" 

"NEIN! I don't want him to see. I can do it." 

Tommy saw Marat roll his eyes, but he didn't make a move to call Roger in or to touch him. Tommy winced as he removed what was left of his clothing, but knew he couldn't stand to have the other man touch him in any way. 

"Tommy, I want you and Roger to move in with me. My apartment is the same size. You and Roger can take the bedroom, but we can share the bills. This way you could get a job working a bar or something and still go to school. Roger wouldn't have to move out of the apartment building. I wouldn't have to struggle to pay my bills by myself." 

Tommy frowned. "Sounds like charity." 

"Nyet. We would merely be helping each other out." 

"I will think on it." 

Marat nodded and stood back, ready to catch Tommy if he fell, but not touching him as Tommy limped towards the bathroom. Marat grabbed Roger's arm and quietly told him to start packing their belongings. Roger did as he was told and he and Marat moved their stuff down the hall to Marat's apartment while Tommy cleaned himself up. 

A week passed before Tommy started feeling more like himself. He'd been angry with Marat for forcing him to move in with him, but in the end, he realized that it was better for all of them. Someone was always with Roger this way. Tommy was very nearly done with his schooling and would soon be able to be a doctor. And Marat was very gentle and kind to Roger. He was also very gentle with Tommy, going out of his way not to scare Tommy in any way. 

Tommy sighed as he came home from school. Classes were almost over and he was _thisclose_ to graduating. He stopped short at the sight of Marat and Roger snuggled together on the couch, reading one of Roger's western stories that he frequently borrowed from Mr. Ripley. He smiled slowly, noticing for the first time how kind and gentle Marat was with Roger. "Hello, you two," he said as he set his books aside. "How was your day?" 

Marat smiled at him and looked at Roger. 

"I got to go with Marat to his shop!" Roger bounced in his seat. "He works with this guy that's huge! He's a giant, I think." 

Marat chuckled. "Nyet, he is just very large." 

"Still say he's a giant!" 

Marat glanced at Tommy and looked him over. "Your eye is healing well." 

Tommy nodded and sat down on the only free chair in the room. "Ja, as are the other... spots. Marat, I want to thank you for all of your help." 

"Don't." Marat shook his head as Roger stood up and moved into the kitchen area. "Tommy, I wanted to help. I like Roger and I like you. Besides, I have been lonely since coming to America. People aren't as friendly to those who don't speak the language so fluently." 

"I've noticed. I was sure I'd be kicked out of school because I had such a hard time grasping the English language." 

"You speak it very well." 

"As do you," Tommy replied, smiling as Marat grinned at him. Marat reached over, moving slowly so he didn't startle the German and patted Tommy's knee. Tommy felt his heartbeat speed up and he scooted over to the couch and leaned in, pressing his lips softly to Marat's. Marat held very still, careful to let Tommy take the lead and control their kiss. 

Tommy pulled back, staring into deep brown eyes. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have..." 

"Shhhh," Marat shushed him, reaching up and trying not to feel bad when Tommy flinched away. "I will not hurt you, Hasi, I promise. I will only take that which you wish you give." 

Tommy nodded and laid his head on Marat's shoulder. "I trust you." 

Marat smiled and rubbed a hand down Tommy's shoulder. 

 

Tommy woke up, gasping for air as the remnants of his dream clung to him. Roger sat up, blinking at him and reached over, touching his shoulder. "Tommy?" 

Tommy jerked away, shaking his head. "Don't touch me!"

"Tommy?" Roger's voice shook with tears. 

"Don't you get it!?" Tommy shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to shake the dream images of being held down, raped and battered. "So dirty, need to get clean..." Tommy scratched at his arms, trying to feel clean.

"Marat!" Roger called, climbing out of the bed he and Tommy shared. He ran into the other room and shook Marat awake. "Marat! Tommy is hurting himself!" 

Marat gazed up at him for a few second before what Roger was saying sunk in. He stood and headed into the bedroom after ordering Roger to stay on the couch. "Tommy? What's wrong?" 

"So dirty, can't get clean. Never be clean again," Tommy mumbled as he rocked back and forth. He reached up, tugging at his hair. "So, so dirty. Dirty. Filthy. Stupid. Whore." 

"Nyet!" Marat snapped as he wrapped his arms around Tommy. Tommy struggled, but Marat held him still, preventing him from even scratching his arms. "Beautiful, sweet, highly intelligent. You only did what you had to do, l'ubimij. You saved Roger from having to sleep on the streets." 

"Nein! Dirty and filthy whore. So stupid. So, so dirty." 

"Nyet!" Marat growls, hugging Tommy tight. This went on for a while until Tommy finally fell asleep. Marat lay down with him, holding the German close before following him to sleep. 

 

Roger glanced around the train, frowning as Marat pushed him down the aisle. "Why are we here?" he asked when Marat pointed out his seat. He was across from Tommy, but next to an old lady and unable to see out the window. He pouted at Marat, who sat across the aisle from them. 

"Because, Roger, we are moving West," Marat said with a sigh as he settled his bag on his lap. 

Tommy smiled and nudged Roger with his foot. "Trade me places, Rogi. You can see out the window better from this seat." 

Roger beamed and bounced to his feet. "You should not spoil the child!" the old lady snapped, glaring at Tommy. 

Tommy blinked, narrowing his gaze. "Don't tell me what to do. He is my family, ma'am, not yours. I will spoil him if I wish." Tommy stood and gestured to his seat. "Sit, Rogi." 

Roger sat, sinking into his seat as his cheeks heated. Tommy continued to glare at the woman as he sat down next to her. "It is none of your concern how my brother and I choose to live, so mind your business." 

The old lady harrumphed and turned to stare out the window. Tommy leaned forward and grabbed Roger's knee. "Look at me, little brother," Tommy murmured in German. "Do not pay attention to what anyone else says. You are not spoiled and not a child, remember that." 

Roger nodded, forcing a smile. "Thank you, Hasi," he replied in English. Tommy sat back and glanced over at Marat who was watching with interest. Tommy smiled and shrugged as Marat nodded at him. 

It took a very long week with a very impatient Roger, but finally they arrived in St. Louis, healthy if not exactly happy. Roger pouted as Marat collected their bags. "I thought we were going west! Not to another city!" he said, lower lip sticking out as he glared at Tommy. 

"We will eventually, Rogi. Right now we need to earn some money before we continue our journey." 

Roger's expression faded to one of worry. "Are you going back to... before?" 

"Nein, little brother." Tommy looped his arm around Roger's waist and pulled the young man close. "I am going to find work in a hospital, Marat will find work as an apprentice again, and you'll find work in a kitchen. We'll all contribute." 

Roger smiled and snuggled against Tommy's side. "And we'll have a house?" 

"Not quite yet, little one," Marat said, handing Tommy a couple of the bags. "We'll have to hold off on a house until we reach our final destination." 

Roger scowled up at Marat and snuggled closer to Tommy. "But I want a house!" 

Tommy sighed as Marat rolled his eyes and started in the direction of a boarding house they'd been told about. "I know you want a house, Roger, so do I and so does Marat, but we have to be patient. We'll get one eventually." 

Roger sniffled, his lip sticking out. Tommy hugged him and started after Marat, pulling Roger with him.

It was a few weeks later that Roger stepped into the house, shivering. Though it wasn't as cold here as it had been in New York, the cold was different -- cutting through cloth to freeze deep inside where in New York it was a sharp, stinging cold. He shut the door firmly behind himself and headed to the bathroom. He knew he had to get out of his cold, wet clothes before Tommy or Marat came home and yelled at him for playing outside, but the neighbour's kids had wanted someone to play in the snow with them and Roger hadn't felt wanted for a while. He smiled as he thought about it. He loved playing in the snow, but Marat and Tommy were so busy with work, they didn't have time to play anymore. And he knew he wasn't supposed to go outside without them, especially in such cold weather but he didn't listen to them. When he knew they were both going to be gone for a while, he'd sneak out and make snowmen and snow angels and throw snowballs at trees. He'd gotten good at destroying the evidence of his sneaking out, though it pained him to ruin some of the pretty snowmen he'd built the last couple weeks. 

He undressed in the doorway of the apartment so that he wouldn't track water everywhere and noticed that both Tommy and Marat's coats were hanging up. They weren't supposed to be home yet. He sighed, resigned to being in trouble as carried his sopping wet clothing towards the bathroom. He set them on the floor near the shower and heard weird grunting noises. Frowning, he followed the noise to Marat's room and opened the door. His eyes widened as he watched Marat moving against Tommy. At first he thought Tommy was in pain because he was moaning, but Roger somehow knew that the sounds weren't from pain. He blushed when he realized both his "brothers" were naked as they moved together grunting loudly and sweating. He tilted his head, trying to get a better look at what they were doing and his eyes widened further when he saw Tommy's dick sliding in and out of Marat's ass. 

He shut the door quietly and ran back to the bathroom, thinking over what he'd seen. He knew it was possible for a man and a woman to join like that -- he'd asked Tommy how babies were made when he'd seen a very pregnant woman on the train -- but it had never occurred to him that two men could do the same. And then the realization hit that this was what Tommy used to do to make money and he immediately had the notion that maybe Marat was being nice to them because Tommy was doing this for him. After all, if that was how Tommy had made money before maybe Marat was like the men who'd hurt Tommy, but he dismissed the idea. Marat was too nice and too considerate of Roger's feelings as well as being far to careful with Tommy to use him like that. 

Climbing in the shower, he continued thinking over what he'd just seen and felt uncomfortable. Looking down, he saw himself sticking out from his body. It had happened before and Tommy said it was normal, but Roger wondered why it happened. Tommy had blushed and calmly explained why in technical terms but that hadn't helped Roger's curiosity. He reached for his dick, touching it and gasped at the flare of pleasure. Emboldened by the feeling, he wrapped his fingers around it and moved his hand slowly along it, whimpering in the back of his throat as arousal coursed through him. He stroked himself a few more times before his dick started spurting a thick, creamy white substance. He frowned and brought his fingers up to his face, staring at the white stuff on them. He wrinkled his nose and made a mental note to ask Tommy what it was as he washed his hand under the shower spray then cleaned himself up. 

As the days passed, Roger found himself watching how Tommy and Marat interacted. They started being more openly affectionate with one another in front of Roger, especially when Roger shyly asked about what he'd done and whether it was wrong and if it was supposed to happen like that. 

One day he came home to find Marat and Tommy talking in the living room. "Tommy?" 

"Roger, good, you're home. Sit down. We need to talk to you." 

Roger frowned. Nothing good ever seemed to happen when they wanted to sit down to talk. He sat on the edge of the chair, staring at his family. 

Marat smiled and reached over, grabbing Roger's knee, giving it a hard squeeze. "Relax, I think you will like this news." 

"I saw an advertisement in the paper a few days ago at the hospital for a small town in need of a doctor," Tommy said, grinning at him. "The town is in Texas and it's called Bluebonnet. I've been corresponding with the Sheriff and it looks like there is an opening for a blacksmith as well." 

Roger nodded, looking over at Marat who was also smiling. "And?" 

"And this could be it, Rogi. Our new home. We could build a house and settle in and never ever have to worry about our families again!" Tommy pulled Roger over between him and Marat. "What do you say?" 

"Yes. Yes! I want a home! When do we leave?" 

Tommy laughed and hugged Roger. "As soon as possible. We need to go start our new lives." 

Roger bounced to his feet and headed into his room. He knew that somehow moving to Texas would be a life changing event for all of them.


End file.
